


velvet light

by akc



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Birthday Party, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akc/pseuds/akc
Summary: “What if I told you I’m a genie?” Akira says unconvincingly. “I can make any wish come true no matter what.”





	velvet light

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday akechi goro... this is very cheesy   
> takes place probably 2 years after game events, where things theoretically went better than they had originally

They’re sitting on the countertop. 

Well—it’s actually just Ryuji and Futaba sitting on the countertop. Their feet are planted on the stools and faint shoe-shaped dirt marks are left in their wake. Sojiro would have a heart attack if he saw it, probably. Perhaps multiple ones.

“Boss would have a heart attack if he saw you guys sitting there,” Morgana points out from his spot on the booth. “Maybe more than one.”

“Well, he’s not here right now,” Futaba says, as if it’s an extremely well put justification. She rubs her feet against the stool, smearing the dirt around even more so. 

Akira stares at her for a moment and makes a mental note to himself to clean it up later, telling himself that he has to return to the current task at hand. He’s searching for matches in the cabinets like his life depends on it, partly because it just may. There’s a cake on one of the booth tabletops, and without any lit candles, it’s not  _ really  _ a birthday cake. It’s just a cake with wax sticks in it.

This is the very first year the group is celebrating Goro’s birthday, because he hadn’t mentioned the date the year before, and the year prior to  _ that _ they were barely acquainted with one another. So, naturally, once Akira found out it was his birthday a few days ago, he absolutely scrambled to put together a party with nuclear-power-plant level energy. 

Everyone has had a part in it, too, which Akira feels is a particularly important aspect to this party. Akira knows Goro still feels uncomfortable and out of place with the ex-thieves for reasons not needed to be explained and wants to  _ prove  _ that things are lighter now by doing… all of this. 

It’s been a rough few years—far too many ups and downs, far too much movement on the wheel of fortune—and Akira wants Goro to know that all he’s been through hasn’t been in vain. It hasn’t been for nothing.  

Akira wouldn’t ever say it to his face, but unfortunately, Goro’s own behavior is what makes his interactions with the group awkward. If only he could peel away that mask and open up the way he does with Akira, then things would go so much more smoothly.

Easier said than done, of course. Logically, Akira knows that Goro isn’t purposefully trying to come across as aloof, it’s just his worries and fears eating away at his nerves. 

He finally finds the matches in the cabinet and his phone makes a noise. Akira nearly pops his arm out of the socket trying to read the message.

**goro [21:55] :** I’m about five minutes away. 

“He’s five minutes away!” Akira shouts, waving his arms around as some sort of indication for everyone to settle things into place.

**Me [21:55] :** haha you’ll be here at exactly 22:00   
**goro [21:56] :** Yes, that is the time you told me to come.   
**Me [21:56] :** it’s just impressive that you’re so exact  
**goro [21:56] :** Well.

“Okay, Ryuji, Futaba—get off the counter and hide!” He slaps Ryuji on the arm with ridiculous eccentricity, quite out of character. 

“Holy shit, man, I’m getting off! Calm down!” Ryuji splutters, sliding off the counter with a huff.

“Perhaps we should hide now,” Yusuke says matter-of-factly, as if Akira had not just shouted this at the two counter dwellers. After a few more seconds of confusion everyone hops into their places, some under booths, one way up the attic stairs, others behind the counter. Akira stands next to the door the door, back to the wall. He flicks the lights off and waits.

**goro [22:00] :** I’m here.   
**goro [22:00] :** The lights are off?   
**Me [22:01] :** it’s okay just come in the doors unlocked 

The speed at which he types this out onto his phone’s keypad is absolutely unparalleled to anything else in the world. It’s unusual for him to feel so… blatantly worked up about something. He really wants this to leave a good impression on Goro.

And then, with a creak, the door opens.  

And a voice follows the creak.

“Um, Akir—“

Before Goro can even so much as say the rest of his name, Akira jumps to fumble with the light switch and makes strange hand motions at everyone. Ungraciously they all pop out in a fragmented order—Futaba smacks her head on the bottom of the booth table when she jumps out—and shout a  _ Surprise!! _

“Oh,” is all Goro says, notably breathlessly, almost like he’s been hit in the chest with a soccer ball. Hopefully it’s in a good way.

Akira shuts the door with his foot and slides in front of Goro. If he were wearing a cape, he might have looked like a magician, what with how theatrically he spreads his hands out. “Happy birthday, Goro,” he says, laying his hands on the boy’s shoulders oh-so-tenderly.

“Oh,” Goro says again, and he might be holding in tears. “Thank you—I, um, wasn’t expecting this, so—”  

“Don’t worry about that!” Ann shouts from the stairs. “Your face says it all, honestly.”

“You’ve caught me in a moment of weakness,” he says a bit dumbly. 

Akira releases his shoulder-hold and tugs Goro over to the booth where the charming albeit ugly homemade cake sits. It has white frosting, unevenly spread across the surface and sides, and red sprinkles and text that should say  _ Happy Birthday Goro!  _ but looks more like a bunch of gibberish due to the sloppiness of the writing.

“Ryuji wrote out the words,” Akira explains when Goro gives him an exasperated glance. 

“Yes, I offered to do it, but Ryuji was quite insistent,” Yusuke confirms. 

Ryuji, of course, chimes in to give his opinion with a firm smack of his palm on the table. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts, man.”

“There’s no need to get philosophical about birthday cake!” Futaba exclaims from her reclaimed spot on top of the counter. “Just sit down so we can sing! And eat it!”

For the briefest of moments, Akira wonders whether or not they’re all going to be able to fit in this booth. The seats are pretty big, but everyone sits very funnily and takes up a lot of space, plus there’s Morgana— 

Everyone files in despite Akira’s internal monologue. Ann, Haru and Makoto sit on one side, Ryuji sits on the counter again, Morgana sits on the table, and Goro sits between Yusuke and Akira. There’s enough room, by some strange miracle. 

“Oh, wait!” Akira jumps out of the seat and turns off the lights again. He navigates back to his spot, running his hands along the tables in the dark to find his way, which, truthfully, isn’t all that necessary, considering there’s a good amount of light pouring in from the street lamps outside.

He can’t see Goro’s face very well, but Akira can  _ feel  _ the side of his arm trembling.  _ There’s nothing to be nervous about _ , he wants to say, but doesn’t, because that might be embarrassing. Instead he searches for Goro’s hand with his own underneath the table and locks their fingers together, as casually as one possibly could manage. Goro tenses ever so slightly, and Akira doesn’t look at him. 

Goro doesn’t seem to resist, though, which is a good sign. Akira hopes his hands aren’t too clammy.

“Haru, could you light the candles?” he asks, attempting to get… whatever his brain is thinking about back on track. Goro still, however, has not let go of his hand, and Akira takes this as another good sign. 

Haru gives a little nod. “Of course.”

She picks up the box of matches and swipes one against the red phosphorus side. The air smells like smoke; Akira watches in anticipation as she delicately lights each candle. The flame shines brightly against her nail polish and makes it look more orange than pink. 

She blows out the match and sets it down. “Okay, is everyone ready, then?”

“What’s the cue?” Ann asks. 

“On  _ three  _ or on  _ go _ ?” Futaba also asks. 

“Do it on  _ three _ !” Morgana yelps, with just about as much intensity and vigor as a cat could possible have. “That seems more normal.”

“Okay, on three!” Futaba wildly nods and immediately gives herself the liberty of being the person conducting the countdown. “One, two, two and a half, two and three quarters, two and —“

Ryuji hits her arm. “Just say it!” 

“— three!”

The room bursts into a chorus of _happy birthday to you!_ and Goro covers his face with his free hand, so clearly overwhelmed. Akira is _positive_ his face is deep red. He runs his thumb along the top of Goro’s hand in an attempt to calm his nerves, but realizes he may have made it worse in doing so. 

Everyone stops singing rather abruptly, and Akira has hardly noticed, so it sounds like he’s mumbling to himself at the end before his brain snaps him back into the real world.

“Uh,” he says stupidly, and then: “Make a wish, Goro!”

Makoto gives a hum of reassurance and smiles as if to second Akira. Nearly all eyes are focused on Goro, and when he thinks about it, Akira wonders if that’s an uncomfortable experience for him—to be so intently stared at like this. 

Who knows. He turns and watches anyway. 

Goro stares into the candles, the flames licking his face like a movie scene, glossing over his eyes and lips. After some hesitation, he blows out the candles and Ryuji gives three loud and enthusiastic claps, which are followed shortly by more reasonable and soft applause from everyone else. 

While Futaba turns the lights back on, Akira leans over to Goro, lips accidentally—maybe accidentally, anyway—touching his ear, and whispers, “So what’d you wish for?”

Goro stiffens. “I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

There’s some commotion about cutting the cake that sounds like  _ Don’t let Ryuji wave a knife around like that! _ but it is far away and in the back of Akira’s brain. 

“Oh, come on,” Akira mumbles, “Do you still believe that?”

“Still? What do you mean, ‘still?’”

“I mean, you’re pretty old now… isn’t that just a myth?”

The corners of Goro’s eyes crinkle. “Is it, Akira?”

And Akira is about to give some smartass reply but is interrupted by a few taps on the shoulder. He turns his head to discover Makoto standing next to him with a large knife in her hand, and for the briefest of moments, wonders if he’s dreaming or something right now.

He looks at her, then at everyone else, and is suddenly and unfortunately aware of just how quiet the room has become and how close he was to Goro’s face a couple of seconds ago.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to cut the cake now,” Makoto says, face quite unreadable. “Would you like a slice?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Akira replies, slowly and painfully. 

Makoto tilts her head at Goro and he nods rather feverishly and says, “Yes. Thank you. Please.” The words seem out of order. 

_ He’s flustered,  _ Akira thinks, then jumps right back into their conversation because—well. It’s important. He’s not sure whether or not he can get Goro to tell him what he wished for—or if he wished for anything at all and is just playing around now—but he’d like to try as hard as he can.  

“What if I told you I’m a genie?” he says unconvincingly. “I can make any wish come true no matter what.”

“A genie, hm?” Goro smiles, and it’s real. “What if I made an impossible wish? What if I wished to live in space?”

“I don’t know why anyone would want to live in space, but if that was your wish, I could make it come true. Just try me.” Akira puts on his best challenge face. From the corner of his eye, he sees Makoto place plates with cake on them in front of himself and Goro, but ignores them. 

Everyone in the room must be looking at them, Akira realizes vaguely, because it’s not very loud anymore and that is very unusual. 

“All right, then, genie,” Goro finally says, slowly, “If you say so.”

Akira tilts his head to the side, indicating Goro to tell him. He feels lips on his ear and jolts a bit, and oh, the room is  _ dead  _ silent now.

The words reverberate against his ear drum: “I think that I wish Akira would kiss me.”

In his head, Akira comes up with a litany of funny things he could say in response to this, but forgoes them all and instead decides to do what he promised—that is, to grant wishes. He cups Goro’s face in his hands, smooths the skin under his eye with his thumb and presses his lips against Goro’s mouth. Akira feels the detective’s hands on his waist and he hums at the touch.

“Ahem,” Haru says awkwardly.

They peel away from one another. Whoops.

“Good job, man,” is all Ryuji says in the silence. “And happy birthday, Akechi.”

“Aha, well, thank you,” Goro mumbles, making intense eye contact with one of the barstools.

Akira smile-laughs nervously. He looks back to Goro. “Yeah,” he says, “happy birthday.”

“This was a long time coming!” Futaba exclaims, suddenly standing next to Akira and clapping him on the shoulder. “Just let me eat my cake before you do anything else gross.”

Akira picks up a chunk of cake and rubs it right against her cheek. Goro laughs, loud and alive.   
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
